Surprises
by i've just got one
Summary: Shamelessly fluffy piece in which our favorite army doctor and consulting detective FINALLY get together, and how they adjust to the change in their relationship. Did I mention fluff? Post-Reichenbach, J/S slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My first attempt at writing legitimate Johnlock (as opposed to implied). I'm a little apprehensive about my portrayal of Sherlock, but...Hey, it's fiction. And I mostly write these for my own personal enjoyment.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, or any of the other characters associated with them.**

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><p>When John Watson realized that he was essentially in an actual relationship with Sherlock Holmes (and that realization hadn't surprised him as much as he would have guessed – he supposed he'd known for a while), once the initial shock had worn off (Sherlock pulling him into an alley and snogging him senseless after a case had admittedly been a surprise), he figured that not much would change. Sherlock was still Sherlock, things at 221B would continue as they had always done, and John could be content with that. He did expect Sherlock to be less acknowledging of his personal space than ever, and the consulting detective might be even more needy than before, but John found himself not really minding this idea. Because Sherlock was his now and he would gladly deal with the idiosyncrasies in their relationship for Sherlock's sake.<p>

One thing that John was _not _expecting was…Actually, there were a lot of things he wasn't expecting. But the surprises were far from unpleasant.

After the kiss – and the subsequent explanation, which had basically amounted to John asking, "What the hell was that for?" and Sherlock replying, "Don't be obtuse, John. Such displays of affection are common when one is in a romantic relationship," and that was it – in the alleyway they continued home to Baker Street. Neither said much. Sherlock was in a pensive mood, and John was still more than a little stunned. So stunned that he was only half-aware of Sherlock's hand tentatively brushing against his own.

A second later Sherlock's gloved hand slipped into John's, fingers interlacing in a perfect fit. John was only momentarily surprised that his first instinct was not to withdraw his hand, but to tighten his grip on Sherlock's.

That had been the first surprise (excluding the kiss, of course). Sherlock wasn't known for instigating physical displays of affection. He wasn't known for instigating any sort of display of affection, really…

And that surprise was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

John would have liked to properly discuss the kissing incident when they got home, but Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom and did not reemerge. Figuring Sherlock would only talk about this – whatever it was – on his own time, John gave a small shrug of defeat and retired to his own room. He wanted to think about this before discussing it, anyways.

It took John no more than ten minutes or so to realize that he was definitely, beyond a doubt, in love with Sherlock Holmes. Had been for a while. Probably since the first time they met. Really, he'd been an idiot not to realize that sooner (although, in his defense, he'd never been attracted to another man before, so it was rather understandable that he hadn't become aware of his feelings for Sherlock before now).

Sherlock's feelings, however, were still a mystery. Yes, he had been the one to initiate the kiss, and the hand-holding, but John didn't want to make assumptions based on those actions alone. There were many possible explanations that didn't involve Sherlock being in love with John. It could have been an experiment – that was the most likely reason. Still…he had used the words "romantic relationship", and John didn't think Sherlock would bandy those words about just for an experiment.

It was all too confusing. John had no idea how things were supposed to progress from here. Should he just pretend nothing had happened? As much as he wanted a relationship with Sherlock, he didn't want to risk their friendship.

John was suddenly aware of his bedroom door creaking slowly open. He glanced up and was unsurprised to see Sherlock standing silhouetted in the doorway. The detective stood there awkwardly for a few moments before quietly muttering, "May I come in?"

Another surprise. Sherlock asking permission? John was beginning to wonder if he was in some sort of Twilight Zone. Next thing he knew Sherlock would be on friendly terms with Anderson.

"Sure."

Sherlock hesitated, then silently walked in to stand at the foot of John's bed. "May I…?"

John gestured for him to sit.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Sherlock inhaled slowly. John folded his arms expectantly, saying nothing, waiting for the other man to speak. The doctor was attempting to maintain a calm demeanor, but his heart was pounding – something told him that, before the night was over, before either of them left that room, his relationship with Sherlock Holmes would be decided, one way or another.

No pressure.

Eventually, Sherlock spoke. "I…would like to apologize, John. For what happened in the alley."  
><em>Here it comes<em>, John thought, feeling an intense mixture of disappointment and relief. Sherlock didn't harbor any romantic feelings for him, and now he was here to say as much.

"I'm not accustomed to thinking of others before I act. Considerate behavior is not my forté. So I fear I…may have acted on my own feelings before determining yours. As a result I feel it would be best if we ensure that we are on the same page."

John took a second to run this through his mental Sherlock-to-English filter. The resulting translation made his heart skip a beat – if Sherlock was saying what John thought he was…No, best not to get ahead of himself. John cleared his throat and tried to sound casual as he replied, "So, what…are you saying, exactly?" There was absolutely no room for misunderstanding here. His relationship with Sherlock was balancing very precariously on the edge of a knife, and when it fell John wanted to make sure it fell on the correct side.

Sherlock was refusing to make eye contact. He exhaled and said, "I'm saying that I may…no, that I have…I'm saying that I think I'm in love with you, John."  
>John was grateful that Sherlock kept talking after that, because he didn't think himself capable of any sort of coherent response. Instead, he listened silently as Sherlock continued to speak. "I haven't any prior experience to which I can compare these…emotions, so I'm still not certain, which is why I didn't act before now – I dislike not being certain of anything. Especially something this important. But I just…I couldn't hide it any longer." He gave another short exhale. "I took for granted that my feelings would be reciprocated, but as your reaction earlier tonight was less than encouraging, I can only assume that the attraction is one-sided?"<p>

Filter. Translate. Respond. "Are you…are you asking me whether or not I'm in love with you?"

"That is one of the things I'm asking, yes."

"One of them?"

"I have other questions, obviously." Sherlock stood and began pacing. "Did my actions tonight cause irreperable damage? Are things going to be awkward now? Will we have to make alterations to our living arrangements?" He stopped pacing and faced John. "These are questions only you can answer, John."

Part of John wanted to suggest saving the discussion for the morning – he was not prepared to answer that first question on such short notice. But he wanted this resolved. And he knew Sherlock, who was hardly patient at the best of times, would not be sated until he was given the data he wanted.

So John Watson took a deep breath, thought, _To hell with it_, and said, "In answer to your first question…Yes."

Sherlock blinked, looking as though he didn't quite trust his own ears. "I…what?"

John suddenly felt the urge to smile – he still didn't know how a man as brilliant as Sherlock could be so dense when it came to emotions. "Yes, I'm in love with you. Have been for…well, for a long time, really. Didn't really realize that until tonight, but I'm completely certain of it now."

He wasn't used to seeing Sherlock speechless, and it was an image he wanted to commit to his memory permanently. John fought back a chuckle, not wanting to ruin the moment, and waited for Sherlock to regain the use of his vocal chords.

"So...you're saying..."

"That I love you. That your feelings are reciprocated. That I'm completely ass-over-kettle for you."

"Then why...Your response to the kiss was less than enthusiastic. You seemed angry..."

"I wasn't angry. Just very, very surprised." He allowed himself a small, reassuring smile. "I wasn't exactly expecting you to pull me into an alleyway for a snog."

Sherlock lowered his eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't be. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not doing a good deal of complaining about this turn of events." He patted the empty space beside him. "Now come sit down and we'll get all this sorted, yeah?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Sherlock acquiesced. He settled onto the bed, cross-legged and facing John, a wide-eyed, earnest expression on his face that made him look like a child. John smiled and took Sherlock's hand in his, which elicited a surprised smile from the consulting detective. "I imagine all these emotions are just a little bit confusing."

"Marginally," was Sherlock's wry response. He seemed fascinated with John's hand enveloping his own, and kept staring at it as though he expected John to pull away.

"I've been told that talking through your feelings can help. Or so my therapist says."

"Your therapist is rubbish."

"True. Still, it's a theory worth testing." John gave Sherlock's hand a light squeeze. "Would it help if I went first?" Sherlock gave a small nod. "Okay. Right now I am feeling more than a little nervous and a bit self-conscious and I'm wondering if I've just gone completely mental, because the idea of someone like you wanting to be with someone like me is ridiculous...And I'm certain that, no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying with you. So if you decide that you were wrong, that you don't actually feel for me in that way, don't worry about losing me as a friend."

John let out a small breath. He hadn't revealed that much of himself to anyone in a long time, and doing so left him feeling both exhilirated and scared to death."Right then, that's me done. Now you have a go."

Sherlock seemed to mull over his thoughts for a bit. Finally he said, "You haven't gone mental." He looked up and met John's gaze, grey eyes locking with blue. "I know the idea of someone like me thinking I've got a chance with someone like you _is_ ridiculous, but..."

"Hang on, that's not what I meant," John said quickly. "You got it backwards. It's stupid for me to think I've got a chance with somebody as amazing as you, not the other way around."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. John could practically see the detective's mind working as Sherlock sorted through all of the existing and incoming data, trying to decide what was important and what wasn't, what had to be addressed right away and what could wait. John had to admit, it was a little satisfying to be the reason the great Sherlock Holmes was currently acting like a confused fifteen year-old boy.

"No...I haven't got it backwards," Sherlock replied slowly. "You're...you're good, John. You're _good_ and...and thoughtful and...Everything I'm not. I don't know why you would want me."

"Because-" John started to say, but Sherlock held up a hand to silence him.

"Let me finish, please." Sherlock paused to gather his thoughts. "Lestrade was right. I'm not a good man. Not yet, anyway. I am selfish and callous and possessive, I automatically put my own whims and needs before everyone else's, and I put everyone near me in danger on a regular basis." He looked John straight in the eye, his expression a mixture of hope and fear and desperation. "I wouldn't be good for you, John. I want to be, I would try to be, but I'm afraid I'd only end up hurting you. I don't want to hurt you. Not ever."

When John was sure that Sherlock had finished speaking, he said, "May I speak now?" Sherlock nodded. "I know you would never want to hurt me. I've lived with you for over two years, I know every last one of your worst traits. And yet I'm still here, despite the fact that you can be an insufferable bastard at times."

"Why did you stay?" Sherlock seemed to be desperately searching for reassurance.

John was all too happy to give it. "Because I love you. Because I could always see the light in you. The potential to _be_ good. I wanted to stick around and be there when you realized that potential." With a smile he added, "And because I'm a total adrenaline junkie and life without you would be extremely dull."

The sides of Sherlock's mouth quirked upwards a little bit, then he turned serious once again. "Why though?"

"Why what?"

"Do you love me?"

John sighed affectionately, using his thumb to rub small circles on the back of Sherlock's hand. "I just do. The thing about love is that it doesn't always have a reason." Sherlock gave an annoyed grunt that made John smile. "I know, you always have to know the why. But this time, you might have to be satisfied with 'because.' Okay?" John shrugged. "Although I must admit, I've no idea why _you_ are in love with _me_."

"I'm not entirely certain why either. All I know is that I am." Sherlock gave John a small smile. "And I think that's enough for right now."

John smiled back. "Agreed." He looked down at their clasped hands. "So...what now?"

Sherlock sighed. "You should know, John, a relationship with me...it would be anything but conventional. There are certain...physical requirements I cannot meet, for one thing. As physically attractive as I find you, I can't alter the fact that I am and will probably always be asexual. I don't know if you would be willing to sacrifice that sort of intimacy with a partner..."

"As sacrifices go, that one is pretty damn minor. There's not a lot I _wouldn't_ sacrifice to be with you."

"I can't promise that I'll change. That all my bad traits and habits will just disappear."

"Wouldn't want it any other way."

"John?"

"Yes?"

Sherlock hesitantly reached up and cupped John's face in his hand. John held his breath as the consulting detective leaned forward and brought their lips together in a gentle kiss. Unlike the alleyway, this kiss was calm, undemanding. The first kiss had been fueled by impatience and uncertainty. This one was slow and relaxed. It was a "we have a lifetime of this to look forward to, let's not rush it" kiss.

Another surprise.

John suddenly felt as though his entire body was full of electricity. He leaned into the kiss, deepening it a little, and caressed Sherlock's neck with his free hand. He couldn't quite believe this was happening. Couldn't believe that Sherlock Holmes was here, like this, with him. Kissing him. Wanting him.

Couldn't believe that Sherlock - beautiful, brilliant, perfect Sherlock - loved him.

John suddenly felt light-headed as all of the emotions and surprises that had been building up all night took their toll. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the kiss and inhaled deeply, willing his pulse to return to normal.

"John? Are you all right?" Sherlock asked with a concern that he never seemed to direct at anyone else.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm...brilliant, actually. Just...it's been a bit of an overwhelming evening." He gave Sherlock a lopsided grin, and his heart fluttered when Sherlock did the same.

"Yes, well...it has been a night full of revelations." Sherlock traced his finger down the side of John's face. "Perhaps it would be best if you got some sleep?"

"Maybe." John really was tired - "absolutely knackered" would be a more accurate description - but he didn't want to go to sleep. Maybe because part of him was afraid that he would wake up and find that all this had merely been a dream. But sleep was rapidly becoming more difficult to fight; already he felt himself beginning to nod off.

He was dimly aware of gentle hands pushing him into a lying position, and of a blanket being pulled up to his chin. And right before he drifted into slumber, he was pretty sure he felt someone lay down beside him and wrap an arm around his waist.

His last thought before falling asleep was, _Sherlock? Spooning? Not bloody likely_.


	3. Chapter 3

**I've realized that I honestly have no idea how long this is going to be. There will be at least one or two more chapters, then I want to finish work on another piece. This is why I usually try to have a complete plot written out before I start uploading chapters xP Oops?**

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><p>The surprises continued.<p>

When John awoke the next morning, it was to the aroma of cooking bacon. He wondered if he was dreaming - was Sherlock cooking?

Probably just got Mrs. Hudson to do it, John thought. Still, for Sherlock even that was a thoughtful gesture, which gave John hope. Maybe last night hadn't just been a dream after all.

However, when John stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen, it wasn't Mrs. Hudson he found standing in front of the stove, but Sherlock. John realized that this was very possibly the first time he'd seen Sherlock using the stove to actually cook something for eating purposes and not an experiment...although John couldn't rule out the possibility that the bacon was just for scientific purposes. You never knew with Sherlock.

"Let me guess," John remarked through a yawn. "This is an experiment to test out your latest porcine-related hypothesis?"

"Don't be dense, John," Sherlock replied without looking up - he seemed to be concentrating very hard on what he was doing. Probably because he was wholly unaccustomed to it. "It should be perfectly obvious that I'm making breakfast."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell with you." John gave him a fond smile. "So it's not an experiment then?"

"In a way. I suppose you could say I'm conducting an experiment in the realm of domesticity."

"Not really your area."

"Not in the past, no. But now that things are...different..." Sherlock shrugged.

John could see the sudden uncertainty in his flatmate's eyes. After what had happened last night, Sherlock wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. To be honest, John wasn't quite sure either. He'd been in many romantic relationships before, but never with a man. And Sherlock was...not your average man.

Figuring that it was up to him to take the initiative, John took a few steps forward until he was standing at Sherlock's elbow. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached up and placed his hand on the consulting detective's neck and stroked the skin with his thumb.

The tension that had visibly been building up in Sherlock's shoulders instantly disappated as he instinctively leaned back into John's touch. John smiled and was happy to see Sherlock do the same. There had been no change of heart, on either part, since last night - John had been worried about that for a bit, not sure if the light of day would bring one or both of them to their senses.

They stood like that for some time, in silence, John gently massaging Sherlock's neck while Sherlock continued to treat the simmering bacon like a bomb that was likely to explode. Finally John pulled away - he stifled a smirk when he saw Sherlock pout at the removal of the hand on his neck - and said, "I'll make tea."

"I already made some," Sherlock said, sounding proud of himself. "It's on the table."

John stared at him for a moment before grinning. Standing on tiptoe, he placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock, apparently, was not satisfied with that, and angled his head to meet John's mouth with his own. John kissed back eagerly, only pulling away when Sherlock muttered something about breakfast being ready.  
>Breakfast proceeded as it always did, with Sherlock reading the paper and John struggling with the crossword puzzle. And yet, it was obvious that something between them had shifted. Not in a bad way - far from it. There was just something different about the way their eyes kept meeting across the table, about the tone of Sherlock's voice as he provided the answers to the crossword (and about the way John remarked that he hadn't asked for any help with the puzzle at all, and about the way Sherlock merely smirked and went back to the paper).<p>

About halfway through the meal, Sherlock slowly reached across the table and grasped John's hand in his. His eyes didn't leave the paper in front of him, but there was uncertainty in them. And curiosity. John realized that this was probably the first time Sherlock had ever been in a relationship, and that this new set of rules and guidelines for physical interaction fascinated him. The detective seemed to be realizing that he could do this - reach over and hold John's hand - whenever he wanted, without having to explain why.

John got the feeling that Sherlock would be conducting a lot of experiments in the area of physical affection.

He also got the feeling that he wouldn't mind it one bit.


	4. Chapter 4

After breakfast, John went to do the dishes - a chore he hadn't done in a few days, and the sink was almost overflowing - while Sherlock sprawled on the sofa in his usual dramatic fashion. John could feel the detective watching him, observing, cataloguing. It was what Sherlock always did, but this time it was different. This time Sherlock was looking at John from an entirely new perspective.

When John had finished with the dishes, he moved to the sitting room. He was about to sit down in his chair, but after a moment's pause he sat down on the edge of the sofa instead.

Sherlock shifted onto his back and looked up at John, who returned his gaze with a small smile. Reaching up, the detective took hold of John's hand, running a thumb over his knuckles. John reached over with his free hand and tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair, then bent over and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Then Sherlock's lips were on his as the detective pulled John into a lying position on top of him. John felt an arm wrap around him as Sherlock pulled him closer, then felt the other man's legs become entangled with his own as Sherlock attempted to eliminate any distance between their bodies. John responded with enthusiasm, deepening the kiss as he let himself become lost in the taste and smell and _feel _of Sherlock...

They were interrupted by the sound of Sherlock's phone, which sat on the coffee table, going off, indicating had a text message. Sherlock broke the kiss and let go of John's hand in order to reach for it, but the arm wrapped around John's middle didn't loosen.

Silence as Sherlock checked his phone, then, "Lestrade."

"New case?"

"Yes."

For a moment, John was annoyed at the interruption, but then he remembered that he and Sherlock could do this whenever they wanted to, and he couldn't help grinning at the thought. "Well then. Maybe you better let me up so we can go, yeah?"

Sherlock actually looked reluctant, and John's jaw almost dropped. Was the great Sherlock Holmes legitimately having trouble deciding between him and a new case? If John had harbored any doubts about Sherlock's attraction to him, this dispelled all of them.

Predictably, though, work came first. Sherlock eased John off him and then sat up. "Shouldn't take long," he said. "A case that has the Yard baffled definitely doesn't equate a difficult one."

John chuckled, and Sherlock's mouth quirked upwards in his characteristically crooked smile. He kissed John's hand again. "Care to join me?"

"Of course. You'd be lost without me, after all."

"Yes," Sherlock said, nodding. "I would." He gazed into John's eyes for a moment before kissing him lightly. "I truly would."


End file.
